Avery wanted cupcakes.
Jake got him cupcakes.
Avery wanted a backrub.
Jake gave him a backrub.
Avery hit Jake.
Jake went to bed.
"Pregnancy," he told Jack, who was on his belly (the only one who could manage it without screaming in pain or being screamed at), stretched out and reading something that looked like an actual book. Jack put it down and turned to Jake, giving him his full attention without even hearing the second word.
"Pregnancy," Jake repeated, sitting on the side of the bed, "is a horrible thing."
"I'm sure Avery thinks so, too," Jack said lightly, and Jake felt guilty until Jack touched his face. "Hey, it will be worth it, and you know it." Jake turned his cheek into Jack's palm.
"I know."
They were quiet for a minute, and Jake laid down to put his head in Jack's lap. Jack picked up his book again and began to read, right hand stroking through Jake's hair. Jake wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and rest, think about the sex he wasn't getting and the family that he was, but he kept his eyes open instead. He looked at the photos on the walls, black and white squares of his shoulders and Avery's moan and Avery's growing belly. Jack's back curved up when he slept. Azizi's ball of sleep. He looked at a picture of Claire and Avery in India, and Jack imitating a sculpture. He looked like a god with glasses. Jake meditating. Annabelle and Alessandro (and they hadn't quite figured that one out, but Alessandro was looking at Annabelle the way that she was holding his hand, and they didn't question it). The three of them, together, the painting that Sophie had done stuck in the middle of the bedroom that they had shared for years. If Jake looked at it long enough, he smiled. Every time. They were surrounded by their own love, and even if the idea of children was scary, it was still right. Because it was them.
"Jack?"
"Mm--hang on, honey, I've got another..." Jake waited for Jack to finish his page, huffing impatiently, and when Jack was done he bent nearly double to kiss Jake, upside-down.
"How did you do that?" Jake asked suspiciously. "You didn't even stretch or anything." Jack just smirked.
"What's up, Jake?"
"He hit me."
Jack laughed and flopped backwards. They both laid back in a row. Jack kept his hand in Jake's hair (it wasn't hard to do). "You need a haircut. I'll do it tomorrow, okay?"
"Okay. Why does he hit me?"
Jack resisted the urge to laugh again. "Like I fucking know? Maybe he's scared and has no choice."
"I'm scared, too."
Jack didn't have any sort of a degree. He said stupid things half the time, and even if he'd relaxed, he still tried to project an image that he'd wreck daily with opposite behavior. He knew about Jake, though. He knew about them. "I know," he said, and left it at that. They were all scared, but it was going to be fine. It was going to be wonderful.
Jake sat up and turned to face Jack again. Jack stretched his legs out and Jake laid next to him. They turned together. The TV went on downstairs, and they listened to Avery flip around to something with car crashes.
Jack kissed Jake.
It would be okay.